soon & never arrivals
on the morning the street outside turned to glass
i was in a hurry to become less filament & more
fur. i had been in the backyard collecting
ivy from the side of the apartment building.
birds were making fun of me for my round face
& the single feather that sprouts & resprouts
from my back. i never meant to be a hybrid animal.
i always thought i could be a fabulous hair dresser
or at least a hammer-boy. cars slid past like magic tricks
towards the river. a man walked around placing
"fragile" stickers all over the ground. no one
heeded their warning. engines spun & people still
insisted on going where they'd intended to go:
groceries & funerals & kissing booths & fountains
& the city. meanwhile, i waited & watched
from my porch. saw my warped reflection in
the newly glass road & saw as cars moved across
my old face. how had i become such a vigil-keeper?
where was my leopard print coat?
i felt no impulse to join the falling. cars plopping
into the river-water one by one. on glass,
they could not turn away. fed themselves
to the rocks & the rush. they each left a mirror version
still driving on the road without material.
i considered shedding my skin once & for all.
i could just live in mirrors & windows.
be the animal i had always wanted to be: thin
& indiscoverable & always observing.
when had my feet served me anyway? yet, i held on
to the thought maybe one day the road
would be asphalt again. sturdy. no duplicate
looking back at me & i could follow it
over the river & towards another town & another.
could still make a phelogeny in my body
if i tried hard enough. i would pause at the bridge
to listen for the ghost cars & their impulse to arrive.
do you ever check your reflection is stil yourself?
i held my hand up & my glass road figure did as well.
blew him a kiss & watched another vehicle leak past
& then men on their backs, sliding, gazing dreamily up
at the lightbulb sun. i plucked out my feather
& dropped it to the ground to be swept past
with all the other arriving.